#paintedxghost

Simon's first instinct, of course, is to protest: " You're not, though. " The words, immediate, are almost an impulsive thing —— which, for better or worse, has been a change over the way he was once so measured and cautious and deliberate in every spoken word. That changed more and more around Expedition Zero, and it seems whatever gave him such boldness has stuck beyond the Abyss.

But, too: the words aren't quite the truth. Their new lives are so terribly complex, trauma baked into them all like some fundamental part of their souls had carved there. Simon hides his well enough, saved for dark nights and sleepless hours and shadows that are deeper than the endless seas; Verso's are more plain, at least to him, and it's equal parts frustrating and heart-rending that he has no easy answers.

@paintedxghost

Gustave stared at Verso, the realization that Verso was the son of the man who slaughtered the majority of Expedition 33, and countless others, no doubt, was unpleasant at best.

Son. Son.

The words echoed in his head, buzzing around like a particularly frustrating fly. What else wasn't he telling them? What other secrets did Verso hold? He'd nearly let Gustave die on the cliffs, another drop of blood in the expansive ocean of death around Renoir.

He stared at Verso still, jaw working as he tried to decide what to do, how to approach all of this. Confronting Verso, their mission - could they even trust him to help anymore? Was Maelle right and the paintress was just another victim?

"Hey, hey, hey—you may be older than me on a technicality, but that doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do." He snorted, lifting his glass just out of his painted counterpart's reach as he batted the man's hand away with his free one. "Hands off. I haven't had a good vintage in ages. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands." Another laugh bubbled up in his chest before he could stop it, and the words had barely left his mouth when a broad grin tugged at his lips before he took an almost exaggeratedly slow sip from the glass, never breaking eye contact over the rim. His other arm remaining stubbornly between them, more for the bit than out of any genuine concern that the other Verso would actually steal his drink.

They'd been at it for a while, trading stories, memories, had finished each other's thoughts on more than one occasion. Every so often one of them would even begin saying something, only for the other to beat him to the punch, earning a groan and an eyeroll, or another laugh in response.

send my muse a 'never have i ever [blank]'. if my muse has done it, they have to take a shot (accepting)

Gustave hadn't played this game in years, not since Pierre died. Frankly, it wasn't a huge fan of it back when he, Pierre, and Alan used to play it (it honestly just felt like a very silly and complicated way of getting drunk), but something about only having one year left to live, and now both of his drinking buddies being gone, made him nostalgic for it.

He wasn't sure if it was a curse or a blessing he was playing with somebody who didn't seem to know how the game worked. "We're already dead," Gustave said, almost monotone as it was something he had slowly started to believe during his time on the Continent. "You're just catching up. No, I haven't died."

suggestive starters / @paintedxghost

And Simon gives a low, agreeable hum deep in his throat, his palm sliding up Verso's back to settle right at the back of his neck. " You're allowed, " he muses, voice low and quiet; it's a rare reprieve from everything here, tangled together still. There's a night chill seeping in from the cracked window, but it's only pleasant counterbalance to this.

( Besides, he may pride himself just a little on being able to soundly wear the both of them out most enthusiastically. )

dnd starters / answered / @paintedxghost

since  joining  the  expedition,  joshua  has  experienced  things  beyond  his  wildest  dreams.  stunningly  beautiful  landscapes,  and  some  of  the  scariest  creatures  he's  ever  seen.  he  sits  with  his  head  on  a  legendary's  creature's  shoulder,  and  a  gestral  talks  to  him  daily.  

he  also  sees  unmitigated  violence  just  as  often.  everywhere  he  turns,  he  sees  the  body  of  an  expeditioner.  every  time  he  takes  a  step  forward,  he  thinks  of  his  older  brother.  of  clive,  who  met  his  end  somewhere  on  this  continent  during  the  last  expedition.  

random dialogue from a book : The Fellowship of the Ring - J. R. R. Tolkien for @paintedxghost

"No one lives in this land. Men once dwelt here, ages ago; but none remain now." The further they moved inland, into the continent proper, it became more and more clear that once upon a time people had lived here, this had been their home. There weren't many relics of human existence, of Lumiére's existence, but there were some and it made Gustave feel a sense of deep melancholy.